My dad always advocated that Hindus worship the devil and that they are no good, to use light words. But sometimes, I wondered if he knew what he was talking about.

Nevertheless, this attitude is not surprising, as most East Indians who are converted from Hinduism to Christianity thereafter adopt a vehement stance against Hinduism.

Related: What I learned about Hinduism from Christians.

But I’ve had several experiences in life which demonstrated divine qualities in Hindus. And I’d like to detail here one of those experiences.

Sometime in the year 2012, I had an incident with my right index finger. I was trying to use a weak acid to burn out a wart that had been growing persistently on the finger; because after light surgical procedures, the wart kept resurfacing.

I decided to take more definitive measures to remove this wart from my finger. I soaked a piece of cotton wool with a weak acid and strapped it tightly onto the finger. I left it there for three days. When I removed the bandage at the end of three days, the wart had been burnt out, but it was an overkill. I peeled out the burnt flesh and waited for the finger to heal; but after a few days, I noticed a strange appearance on the finger. The flesh had turned black and hard. It was unusual. I had never seen anything like it.

Frantic, I did some research on the internet and learned that this was necrotic flesh. I had strapped the finger too tightly, lacking off oxygen supply to that part of the finger – killing the tissue. This dead flesh started to spread. I learned that without effective surgery, necrotic tissue could spread rapidly and destroy not just limb, but life as well.

Surgery was done on the finger that night. The necrotic flesh was carefully carved out, leaving underlying tissue painfully exposed. The finger was bandaged up. I doused myself with painkillers and antibiotics for the next few days. I also overdosed myself with multivitamin tablets.

The finger needed to be cleaned and dressed daily, removing any reappearance of necrotic tissue promptly. This procedure was too painful. I ran away from it. I avoided it. But if the finger was not treated, something could go dreadfully wrong.

One afternoon, my friend, Rayborn Lewis, accompanied me to the New Amsterdam hospital and the nurse attempted to clean the finger by restraining me. But I screamed on the top of my voice and resisted. They had to let me go.

Nevertheless, resection and cleaning needed to be done that very day, or I risked losing this very important limb.

At the end of my patience, I remembered a numbing spray that the dentist had sprayed into my mouth some months back when he was filling my teeth. And I remembered nurse Doothnauth: a retired nurse whom I had the pleasure of knowing some years back; a motherly figure whose gentle gaze reflected divine qualities.

I went to the dentist first and asked him to buy a bottle of that spray. He gave me a half bottle and told me I could have it for free.

I then went over to Nurse Doodnauth’s house. This godsend of a woman made the treatment not just bearable, but heavenly. She seemed to feel my pain. She took her time and gently performed the cleaning and dressing, and helped by the numbing spray, it was done in a manner that I felt minimal pain.

But Nurse Doothnauth didn’t just treat my finger, she prayed for me, she reassured me softly that everything was going to be all right, and she hugged me when I told her I was scared.

Related: The Lord shall make all your beds in your sickness.
Related: The Lord shall remember you in times of trouble.

As I sat on her couch, my eyes stared at all the “idols” on a small altar nearby, and even though I didn’t see “God” in them, I saw God in this woman who served them.

I still hold my conviction that idols are ungodly. I still believe in Jesus and I’m still a Christian; but with the same count of faith I believe with all my heart that wherever heaven exists, nurse Doothnauth will somehow find her way there.